


The Death of Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan

by Adam2810



Series: Animorphs: New War [9]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Andalites, F/M, Hork-Bajir, Incest, Justice, Mercy Killing, Murder, Parent/Child Incest, Prisoner of War, Psychological Torture, Rape, Revenge, Torture, Yeerks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 14:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam2810/pseuds/Adam2810
Summary: The Hork-Bajir resistance is over. The cruelty of the Yeerk in charge of the final domination of the Hork-Bajir planet - Visser Eight - has prevailed, and all is lost after years of fighting.But Visser Eight will not let the leaders of his enemies perish with dignity or honour. He has sniffed out Aldrea and her family, and now he has them. He cares little for Dak and his son, Seerow, but to crow at the Andalite nothlit is a lifetime's dream that he will not pass up. For Aldrea, he has many desires. Her pain is his pleasure.Justice, however, will always be watching...





	1. The End of the Resistance

They had us. For years we had fought. We had lost many brave souls and stolen victories from defeat on many minor fronts, but it was always doomed from the start. I had hoped that we would die fighting…

But they had us.

I wished that I could slit my own throat. I would slit Dak’s, too, and Seerow’s. We had all agreed beforehand that we would rather die than be taken. We had seen what the Yeerk evil did to innocence. They had turned our brothers and sisters into tools. Slaves. It was not a life worth living.

I could do little more than curse the captors that marched us into a hidden ravine. My arms were tied around my back, and my tail around my right ankle. I only had my voice, and I used it as much as my throat would allow. My chest was ripped to shreds, a dark reminder of our final battle. Dak had been blinded in one eye and it was swollen in such an ugly, distressing way.

“You get your hands off of me, Yeerk!” I shouted to him as he pushed me on from behind. Three of them were shifting us; me and Dak. I was scared. More than that… Utterly petrified of what was to come. What use were we now that the resistance had failed? I feared for Dak, a Hork-Bajir too smart for his own good. I feared for Seerow, who I could only see being used as a means of torture in our final moments. He wasn’t even with us. That was the worst part of it all.

My own child… Was he already dead? I hadn’t seen him anywhere!

No. They would keep him.

We approached the lip of the ravine, and another shove from behind almost sent me toppling down the side. It looked like some Yeerk outpost, with various transporters strewn around and a small Yeerk pool crudely dug into the ground. Three Hork-Bajir were before it; two standing and one on his knees, a black strip around his head.

“There!” I called to Dak. “They have him! Seerow!”

I caught Dak in my peripheral vision. He lurched and twisted in reaction, but he was held tight.

Dread rode through me. My son, restrained before the filthy Yeerk Pool... I knew that it was purposeful. Visser Eight was a cruel monster, vengeful and merciless. He would do anything to make us feel weak and small. I knew right then that he would use my own son to torture me one last time.

“Seerow…” I whispered under my voice. He was such a beautiful soul. He did not have the intellect of his parents, but that didn’t matter. He was mine, and I had loved him from the moment I laid eyes on him. A bundle of innocence, thrust headfirst into unimaginable horror.

“He has no Yeerk yet.” Dak spoke glumly.

“He’ll make us watch.” I warned.

“Be quiet.” One of our escorts demanded.

“You didn’t stop us before,” I growled. “And you won’t stop us now.”

He gave me another shove, and my footing nearly gave way. We were closing in on my child, the ground growing shallower beneath us. Every step closer was another stab of pain in my hearts, as his shudders and shivers grew clearer. He was being shouted at… And then the Yeerk hit him.

“No!” I yelped, surging forward. I broke free from my escort, but stumbled over my restricted legs. I collapsed to the ground hard on my chest, winded from the fall. “Monsters!”

“Get up!” My Yeerk groaned while hoisting me up by my bicep.

I looked to my child again, just when a foot was brought violently to his side as he curled up in the dirt. “Don’t!” I cried. “You filth!”

“Can’t we just kill them?” The Yeerk complained. “What a waste of time!”

His companion firmly replied, “Visser Eight will handle them.”

“I’ll rip him to shreds, I swear!” I spat. “And you!”

He scratched deliberately at my arm. “I’d like to see you try, Andalite.”

Dak was holding his anger inside as much as he could. He’d been watching Seerow the whole time. “Aldrea, I think… I think this will be the last we see of our child.”

I put the hatred aside. I forgot entirely about the Yeerks, even as his hands moved me ever forwards. I looked to my son, now with his eyes freed, being dragged up back to his knees. He was confused and scared, and it broke me. I never wanted to see him like this. It was the worst of my nightmares. And Dak was right. He didn’t think it, he _knew_ it.

And perhaps it would be the last I saw of _him_, too. I turned to him as much as I could.

“Dak, we mustn’t scare him. He needs some hope. Anything.”

He was silent. I’d never seen him so defeated, his head held so low. But then he gazed back at me. “You are mine. He is mine.”

We knew each other so, so well. We knew the exact moment to steal one last kiss, and we did. We twisted our necks simultaneously, and we gave a sorrowful, but prideful last goodbye.

Seerow recognised us, and bolted up. “Mother! Father! Fight the Yeerks! Make the Yeerks go!”

My child… I lost my voice, throat clogged with agony. He sounded harsh and beaten, but it was still the voice I raised and nurtured; a voice I heard whisper into my ear at dead of night, frightened of the rain and begging to be coddled; a voice that threw little tantrums whenever forced to eat _Amam_ bark.

_“Now, now, Seerow, it helps you grow big and strong, just like Father!”_

We were merely a stone’s-throw from him. His jaw was shuddering and his eyes were flooded with tears. I couldn’t find the words to comfort him as we were kicked roughly to our knees.

“Mother… Father…” Seerow whimpered. “No Yeerk. No Yeerk!”

I had to be strong for him. For myself and Dak. I had done everything in my power to never show weakness in the face of adversity. I was not doing anything for my own well-being; I was doing it for them. I couldn’t tarnish that image... Not in front of my son in his last moments of freedom. “Seerow, my child, please don’t cry.”

My plea didn’t work, but his tearful groans slowed just a little bit.

A Yeerk stepped forward from beside Seerow, the one that had hit him. I had the unquenchable thirst to rip him from his host’s ear and crush him between my two sharpest claws.

“So this is it! The resistance leaders. Nothing more than simpletons, really!” He boasted.

Dak raised his posture as much as his holder would let him. A guttural noise escaped his snout, before he demanded, “Kill us! Get it over with. Just leave Seerow alone!”

“He had nothing to do with it!” I agreed. “He’s only a child!”

Seerow’s tormenter laughed. “Looks like a grown adult to my eyes. Isn’t that right, Hork-Bajir?”

The beast strode with smugness to my whimpering son, a cruel cackle emanating from his living mask. He pressed a big toe to Seerow’s thigh. “The end of the resistance…” He murmured. “It’s about time. You’ve been nothing but trouble since we arrived. You’ve been so much trouble, in fact, that you’ve made a name for yourselves,” His attention then moved away from Seerow, and back towards me. He was yet to even cast a glance to my _Kalashu_. I felt the vibrations of his footsteps as he stomped victoriously above me. “Especially you, Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan. It’s so sad that you would sacrifice your Andalite body to live with such simpletons. What possessed you? Was it madness? Not like an Andalite to stoop so low. Maybe it’s the embarrassment of your father. Then again, why name your son after such an embarrassment? How peculiar…”

“You aren’t worth my time, Yeerk,” I accused. “Not anybody’s. You’re nothing but filth!”

The scum laughed with a mocking scorn. “I knew you’d be like this. It’s been so long since you were truly Andalite, but you’d never get rid of that arrogant sneer, would you? If it were up to me, I’d have you made a slave like every other Hork-Bajir, but I’m afraid Visser Eight has other ideas.” He moved back to my son, and said to the other Yeerk, “Do it.” They took hold of my Seerow and lifted him harshly to his clumsy feet. They were going to do it. Right in front of us.

“Mother! Father!” He cried. “Seerow not be Yeerk!”

“No!” Dak screeched, pushing forward. He tried to swipe his arms from behind. I attempted to duck and spin, anything to get away from my captor, enough to birth even the smallest chance of rescuing my dear, innocent _kawatnoj_. All walls had broken down, the floodgates smashed. My eyes welled up, and I stuttered a saddened howl. There was nothing we could do!

“Seerow!” I called to him. “Don’t let them beat you! Fight them!”

Oh, did he try. He turned this way and that, pushing back against the Yeerks. All the while, he watched us.

He was leaving us for good. This was it. The last I would see of my _true_ son, before the evil would be forced into his head. Every memory of him replayed in my head. Every time he would snuggle up to me at night. Every time he complained of splinters. Every time he would play with Dak and I would watch eagerly from afar. Every time he told me that he loved me.

“We will always love you, Seerow,” I told him, holding back my pain so that I was loud and clear enough for him to understand. “No matter what they make you do! We will _always_ love you.”

He heard me, and he responded, “Love Mother! Love Father!”

“No matter what!” Dak reassured.

We knew what was coming. And we knew that Seerow would never forgive himself. We had to tell him that. I would have told him a million times if I could, but there was only so much time. They kicked his legs from under him as he stumbled to the edge of the Yeerk Pool, and a big hand grabbed the back of his head as it was driven beneath the surface. Bubbles rose as he screamed within the liquid, and his body writhed behind him.

“Seerow!” I screamed out. “Let go of him! Don’t do this!

I was kicked in the back, just above my tail, and I felt a claw penetrate my skin. I thrashed and did what I could to retaliate.

“Give me my son! Give him back you beasts!”

And yet I couldn’t remove my eyes as Seerow continued to flail uselessly in their grasp. His last moments of freedom. I was watching my son suffer. I was watching as he became dead to the world.

His struggles stopped. The hands that restrained him let go. My son was gone.

“Please…” I wept. “Don’t! My son…!”

The creature that rose from the pool and stretched off aching limbs was no longer truly my son. The Yeerks removed Visser Eight’s restraints, and they exchanged a few words.

There was no telling it was him. He’d had it in for us for years. Only he would perform such a torture. A lunatic, brash and unforgiving. A competent leader, yes, but there was nothing respectable about him.

I hated him. I hated every part of him more than I ever could. More than anything! My poor, poor Seerow was inside somewhere. Still feeling and still seeing. His would be the greatest suffering.

“You monsters!” Dak bellowed. “You let him go! Let Seerow go!”

Visser Eight strutted forward. He limped slightly, but he was determined to defeat his body’s aches in order to show off what he’d done. A cruel smile tarnished Seerow’s face. I strained to see anything, _anything_ of him.

It was his face, but even by looking, I knew it wasn’t him.

He stood over us, folding his arms over his chest and smirking. “Aldrea, the Andalite nothlit, son of Seerow the Embarrassment. And your Hork-Bajir lover. Have you any idea how much stress you’ve caused me? How many sleepless nights?”

“I hope you never sleep again.” Dak cursed.

“Was I speaking to _you_?” Visser Eight chastised. “I’m speaking to the Andalite. The Andalite that gave up her own body for a futile endeavour. Did you really think you’d get anywhere with this madness?”

How dare he speak to my _Kalashu_ in such a dismissive tone?! I would slit his thr-

The image of slicing into Seerow flashed in my head. Maybe…

And then I looked back into his eyes, expecting the cold and heartless stare of a Yeerk. I would wish for his demise, endeavour to regain some lost dignity. Instead, he was different. I saw fear, and I knew that some of him was trying to break through. I had to speak to him. I had to continue to show my sorrow, my adoration. “Seerow, we love you. We love you _so_ much.” I insisted. He would hear, and he would know.

“Seerow is dead!” Visser Eight crowed. “Talk to me, Andalite. Talk to _me_! Answer my question!”

I ignored the petulant fool. “We will always look over you. Till the end of time. Wherever you are. You’re my son and I will love you forever.”

“Silence!” The imposter screamed, face bulging with innate rage. “You stupid, ignorant Andalite scum! Don’t you listen? I won’t deal with this stupidity! Never! Answer my question or I’ll tear out your eyes!”

“Forever, my _kawatnoj_!” Dak continued. He, too, had seen through the shell. “You’ll never be alone. We’ll always be with you.”

“Enough!” Visser Eight screeched. “You’ll say nothing more!”

Suddenly, Visser Eight stormed forward to Dak. Dak tried to lash out, but the Yeerk was behind him before he could react, and took a firm hold of his larger headblade.

He started to pull. Hard.

“No!” I shouted. “No! Get off of him! Get off of him right now! Don’t!”

Dak was groaning, and it grew increasingly high-pitched as the Visser pulled ever harder. Dak’s neck was straining, stretched to its limit upwards as the other Yeerks held him to the ground. Visser Eight was halfway between utter rage and sadistic excitement, teeth baring in a horrific grin.

“My Dak!” I cried, tears streaming once more. “My love! No! Please! Please _stop it_!”

Blood started to trickle from his snout. Eyelids that had been opened wide and alert started to droop, and pupils began to dull. His neck stretched past breaking point, and with a snap and a rip, my lover’s head was torn clear away. Ropes of flesh dripped and dangled, leaving behind his body to collapse. I stared into his open neck and felt whatever was left of my world just… vanish.

Everything was gone. My Dak… My Stars and my Sunlight… Was dead.

In that moment, I knew that I would do it. I would kill him. He wouldn’t let me die. He would keep me as a prize, a trophy for his success. And that would be his undoing.

“This is what happens!” He thundered, waving Dak’s head in the air, licks of blood splattering my face and neck. “Do you listen now?!”

“You… You m-monster!” I stuttered. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

My body took over and gave once last burst of energy, a feeble attempt to overpower them. With Dak gone, there were more hands to control me, and they did so forcefully. The Visser found such joy in it, and he cackled to my face. The evil beast. If only I could… If only…

He started to display my _Kalashu_’s head deliberately to me. With a grip still on his headblade, he swung it lightly back and forth before me. Dak’s one good eye was still open, but there was only death inside. He had long gone.

I could only imagine… Was he still alive in those seconds after his head was removed? Did he watch his own body crumble? Did he try to speak to me, to say one final goodbye? Or was he delirious in pain?

The world around me froze. All I saw was that image. My dying husband, spinning in his last moments, more scared of what was to become of his family than his own painful demise, knowing that any chance he had to change the future had been snatched so surely from him.

But he felt no more pain. He wouldn’t suffer any more. He would watch over us from Beyond.

I was jealous. And I hated that I was.

I snapped back to reality. Dak’s head was still there, held in front of me, still staring with mouth slightly ajar at and past me. Behind him, I heard to Visser deride, “Aldrea, I think your lover has something to say! Don’t you want to listen? Don’t you?”

I was too tired to fight anymore. My struggling was weak and pointless. I just wanted any excuse for them to kill me, right then and there.

I turned away. I couldn’t see him anymore. Nevertheless, the Visser sustained his mockery. In the corner of my eye, I saw him playing with the head, taking the lower jaw to impersonate my husband speaking. “_No matter what!” _He uttered with his most pathetic, sarcastic voice. Droplets of liquid were pelting my cheek, and I couldn’t tell if it was blood or spit._ “Even if he tears my stupid little head off! I’ll still love him_!” He mocked. “_I bet you’ll miss getting fucked, won’t you! Will you pleasure yourself, thinking of me? Look into my eyes and tell me you will!”_

Throughout, I refused to acknowledge. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching. All my body would allow was the uncontained crying and wailing. That, I couldn’t stop. My Dak. My beautiful, loving, Dak… And Seerow…

_It wasn’t him. It wasn’t Seerow. How much will he hate himself for this?!_

“Make her look!” I heard Visser Eight instruct. “Make her see her poor, pathetic lover!”

They wouldn’t let me get away from it. His ego just wouldn’t permit it. The Yeerks behind me grabbed my head and twisted it weightily to face ahead. I closed my eyes tight, but it only worked to persuade the other to use his claws to pry the lids open. His claws dug in, and I felt them pull beneath skin. Blood began to stream around and into my eyes. Through it, Dak’s head was still being toyed with. The Visser had Seerow’s hand locked around the lower jaw, and it rose and lowered to mimic the words her salivated.

“You’ll get fucked again, my love. I promise! I bet you’re wet just looking at me!”

“Stop!” I demanded. “Just stop!”

“Oh, you want him to stop?” The Visser spoke. “Are you sure? Is he being too forceful? Too crude?”

What could I do? There was nothing. Nothing at all.

“Say something!” The Visser shouted at the top of his lungs.

Why bother? If I said nothing, perhaps he would grant me the liberty of death.

Who was I kidding? That would _never_ happen.

The torture would never end. Not until one of us perished.

He was growing more impatient. I had stopped crying, and that made him angry. His mockery was no longer having an effect. He could have put Dak down, allowed his body to decompose as it was, but no. Not him. A grimace formed on him, and I saw his grip tighten on Dak’s jaw and snout. He began to pry it. I watched it horror, staring down my husband’s throat as his mouth opened to its widest, and then further, and further. The corners of his mouth began to tear, the bone snapping from its position. The noise was as horrific as the sight, as the whole jaw was broken away from his skull. He growled, and threw them aside. They landed far away.

“Aldrea, the Andalite _nothlit_,” he fumed. “Your fight is over! You’ve lost! Our Empire stretches far throughout the galaxies! One race after another, after another. Now that your pitiful little rebellion is over, I’m going to leave. There are billions more to enslave, and your son will be right there with me. A little place called Earth.”

The Yeerks let go of my head and eyes, but I did not cower away. I stared at him directly, once again in search of that frightened Hork-Bajir inside. He was still there, so lost and hurt.

“I love you, Seerow Hamee,” I told him. “Always.”

Visser Eight knew that I would be stubborn. I could never let him get the better of me in that regard. Instead of showing off that petulant anger, he said, “Put her down. Make sure she doesn’t move.”

They grabbed at me again, and crudely shoved me backwards. I felt warm blood coat my back; heard the splash as I disturbed Dak’s escaping blood.

Surely, _this_ was beyond him! The thought of what was to occur brought back the urge to cry, and no matter how much I tried to hide it, the situation was too much to bear.

The Visser took a hand to my throat and gave a threatening squeeze. He smiled wickedly, and I felt the body of my son touching mine in a way that it was never meant to. Fingers approached my underbelly, and then dove between my legs. There was no way to roll him off. I was too exhausted to resist.

I had to be strong for him. He needed to forgive himself. For _anything_. This wasn’t my son. It was a monster.

“I love you, Seerow. No matter what.”


	2. Seerow's Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seerow is now a Father. His son, like him, is a slave to the Yeerk Empire. How can he instill hope in such a hopeless world?

Esvill 873 left my head to feed, and I was dragged away under the hot midday sun over the dry, dying grass of our home. He had spent all day yelling at his workers, because the work that needed to be done simply wasn’t. So he was gone, but his words stayed right where they were. When he was angry, he would sometimes yell at me, instead, and those were the words that stayed longest.

There was only one thing that even made me happy anymore. My son. But he was like me.

I had yelled at him today. No… Esvill, the Visser, had yelled at him! He always did it, just to hurt me when I misbehaved.

Sometimes I would see him when his Yeerk was gone. Sometimes he would see me in my cage. Rarely, we saw each other, both freed, but across the massive Yeerk Pool complex, too far to hear each other.

When the Yeerks threw me into today’s cage, I saw him. For the first time in so long, joy filled my chest. It was a bitter joy, but I savoured it greedily. I ducked my head blades beneath the bars and went straight to him. He was looking out the other way, motionless like a corpse.

“Jara Hamee!” I spoke, wrapping fingers around his bicep. “Father is here, Jara Hamee.”

His eyes widened, but it was in happy shock. A smile crept to his snout, and he bowed his head forward. I sat close to him, comfortingly, and joined my head blades to his.

“Not see Father so long.” He said.

He had grown so well, and so strong. He looked like his Father-father. I had only seen him three times now. The first time I saw him, he was in the nursery, and Esvill told me that he was my child. The second time, he was a year old. That time, I named him, and I held him for as long as the Yeerks took to pry me away. Now, older and more curious, Jara Hamee would be looking for something more than just my love.

“Seerow so sorry for Jara,” I told him regretfully. “Seerow Yeerk try to hurt Jara. Seerow tells him to stop!”

“Jara know, Father,” He replied. “Jara Yeerk do the same.”

I held him again, and it lasted for some time. Closer than I would hold any other Hork-Bajir caged with me. He was my son, and he was not free. Maybe he would never be. I couldn’t bear to look into his soulful eyes and think of all the ways they could hurt him, just like they did me.

Then Jara started to speak, his warm breath over my back. “Father, Hahn say to Jara that all Hork-Bajir have mother. Jik say, too. Does Jara Hamee have mother?”

I let the embrace loosen so that I could see his face again. I sat back more comfortably beside him. “Yes. All Hork-Bajir have a mother. Jara Hamee have a mother, too.”

He was hopeful, but also cautious. “Jara meet Mother someday?”

I stopped myself before I said anything. I remembered something that Esvill did a lot, something that was new to me. I think my own mother and father did it, too. Maybe it was what I needed to do with my son. It hurt me to do it.

“Jara Mother is dead,” I told him sorrowfully. “Die long ago. Kill by _Hruthin_.”

His face was blank for a moment, but something shimmered and sparkled, running down his cheek. His eyelids shuddered. I embraced him again before I saw his sadness take him fully. He cried on my shoulder, knowing now that he could never meet his mother. His hope broke a little bit more.

“Mother love Jara always,” I whispered to him. “No matter what Jara do. Mother always love.”

“Will Jara see Mother w-when Jara die?” He whimpered through another rough sob.

I couldn’t contain it. I shed tears myself, and clutched him harder. It felt wrong, telling him something that wasn’t true. The lie still hurt him so deeply. The truth would hurt more. I never answered his question, because I didn’t know.

“Jara not cry,” I finally said. “Jara Hamee must be strong. Always fight Yeerks.”

He sat back and rubbed the latest tears from his snout with the rear of a hand. “Jara not know.”

I cocked my head. “Not know?”

“Yeerks always here?” He weakly pointed a claw to his temple.

I realised that he couldn’t have known. So few Hork-Bajir at this pool were around during the invasion of our home. Nobody had told him. He thought that Hork-Bajir had always gone through this.

“No,” I responded. “Hork-Bajir once free. Now slaves.”

“When do Yeerks come?”

“Years ago,” I said, closing my eyes to recall. I rocked lightly, backwards and forwards, a meditation to bring home the memories. I started to feel sick. “Hork-Bajir live free. Then the Yeerks come. Jara Father-father fight Yeerks. Lead our people, but then they lost. Now, not live free.”

He was attentive. Still watery-eyed, but curious. He wanted more, so I relented, leaning into him to offer my body warmth as a cold chill rolled over from over the rippling pool surface nearby. I felt an urge to guard him, comfort him as much as I could. It was a sad story, made sadder still by my own memories of the way it ended.

I told him the story that my Mother and Father once did, cuddled around a sheltered campfire with the other resistance fighter. I remembered sitting between them, coddled as a young child between them. The flicker of the fire in their eyes, the soothing of their hushed tones…

And then the fear of a distant fighter zooming overhead, and the rush to extinguish the fire. It was so vivid that it even infiltrated my tale told to him.

It ended like the final embers of the most life-like dream. I came back to reality, and to my frightful son. His head rested on my chest, but not to sleep.

“Sad story.” He said.

“Yes,” I agreed. “Sad story.”

“Maybe…” He started. “Another Dak Hamee come. Will save Hork-Bajir.”

It was the sort of hope Mother and Father always tried to give me. After Father’s death, that hope had faded. But I couldn’t steal it from him. I’d be no better than the Yeerks.

“Another come,” I said. “Save Jara Hamee. Save all Hork-Bajir. Hork-Bajir be free again.”

\---

<He will die as one of us. When I see him, I’ll tell him that myself.>

Esvill swore to never let me see Jara again. He said it made me rebellious. It gave me something to live for. That was a bad thing. It made his life harder.

<Why do I care?> He retracted. <Nothing but animals! Filthy, stinking animals. This life is all you’re worth. You should feel lucky for the mercy you’ve received.>

<Yeerk be quiet.> I replied half-heartedly.

<I think we should pay her a visit. I need to unwind from this stress.>

The Visser took us away from the pool where he’d been doing his work. His underlings saluted him as he passed, set eyes to their work like it meant something to them. He smiled all the way past, gazed up at resting giant ships and to platoons of training soldiers, armed with shimmering blades and glowing weapons. The journey took us away from the busy, dusty openings and down into a high-sided trench. Two Hork-Bajir sentries allowed him straight in, and an escort led him through to his very own private section.

“Take me through to her.” He ordered of the escort.

“Yes, Visser.” The female said.

We walked past his living quarters. The entrances were tunnels dug from the ground, reinforced with metal girders and red waterproof fabrics. More guards had been placed, and they saluted to the Visser just as the others had. At the very end of the trench was one final tunnel. A black fabric veil obscured the entrance, and two guards blocked access.

“Good to see you again, Visser,” said one of the guards. “She has been refusing to eat again.”

“Force her to eat. We’ve been through this before. Inject it straight into her stomach if that’s what it takes.”

“Understood, Visser.”

They allowed him through. Many times I had brushed aside the veil to enter the chamber. Most days, if not all during his most stressful fazes. It served him many purposes: Self-relief, self-gratification and any sadistic needs he felt the urge to perform. I would be witness to everything, of course. He’d have it no other way.

The room was dark. All light came from dim torches hung upon the rock walls. No other light was permitted, the place doomed to deliberate darkness. The air was cold and acrid, unclean and unventilated. It stung my nostrils and my eyes, so the Visser rubbed at them, but he thought the experience to be worth the conditions.

At the far end was a structure made of wood, allowed to rest against the wall. It was shaped like a person, with legs, arms and a head. In the darkness, it would seem to be just that, but against the backdrop something living came into view. It was the sluggish motion of a weary tail, drooping down between the legs.

My eyes were adjusting, and by the time we reached the wooden object, she became visible. She was bone-thin, a sickly figure. Her head was dipped weakly to her chest, her eyes barely open and her breath stuttered and shallow. Her hands and feet were locked to the wood with thick, cold metal loops, allowing only the slightest movements. Her tail was strung loosely to the ground with a rope.

She never said anything anymore. Not to him. For years, she had been held there, only seeing change when the structure was lowered to allow her blood to flow enough to keep her conscious. She ate only the rankest sawdust, and drank water from far downstream.

He would never let her die. Never.

“I have been told that you refuse to eat again,” The Visser seethed. “Haven’t you learned by now that that achieves nothing?! You stupid, braindead lizard whore!”

He slammed a fist against the structure behind her. It creaked, but as always it remained strong.

“You will eat!” He screamed. “And you will live every bite!” He raised a hand to grab at her sunken snout, and pried it open. “It’s not long before I finally rip out that tongue of yours.”

There was no resistance in her. Nothing at all. Her eyes opened enough to look. I’m not sure who she saw anymore.

“Someday, you’ll listen, and you’ll learn.” He warned. Standing up tall, he began to run fingers down her torso. I could feel the contours of her ribs, her sallow skin.

He found it hard to be aroused by her form anymore. It was her torment that gave him what he needed. My body reacted to his pleasure, and he pressed his body to Mother’s. She struggled, just barely in her restraints, but there was nothing to stop him.

He spoke as he made sick love to her, boasting his future plans once again. “Your sons will be heading to Earth soon. My assignment here will be over. Think I’ll let you go? Hm? Maybe let you die?” He split his word with a satisfied grunt as he bumped against her cracking bones. “Of course not. You’re coming, too. I can’t promise your new home will be as pleasant as this one, I’m afraid, but I will always keep you company.”

“Love… you…” She said with nothing more than two harsh breaths.

He stopped immediately and reached to grab her neck. He thrust her head back against the wooden frame, and stared her right in the eyes. “What… was that?!” He growled.

“Always.”

“Shut up!” He shouted. “Shut up!”

With an open palm he clattered the side of her head.

“No matter… what… My See- Seerow… No ma-”

He hit her again. “Your son is dead! He’s dead! He doesn’t care for you anymore! He hates you!”

And she smiled. “Always, my son.”


	3. Mercy of a Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justice always prevails.

**Mercy of a Moon**

When it rained, it provided a sound. It was a gentle hum, somewhere far above, and with it came the dripping where my tomb had begun to crumble. For most of the years that I called the place home, it was the only sound that deafened me from my own hesitant breathing.

My arms were numb. My legs were heavy, and my vision would be forever sunk below a daze of light-headedness. Were I to be freed from my eternal shackles, I would simply collapse to the ground and never remember how to stand. But I still had something to stand for, even if my physical condition disallowed it.

_That beast! I’d squash him like the bug he was! And I’d never let the pain end! Never!_

The bitter taste of rotten sawdust paid an unwelcome visit again, the remnants from the last meal that was forcefully pumped down my throat until it started to overflow. It could have been a day ago, or more. I hadn’t been able to distinguish days and night for a long, long time. The only change I ever saw was the dimming of broken torches as they flickered on my walls in time with my sluggish blinking.

Stuck in a prison till my death; stuck with the memories of my defeat… my Husband’s last moments as a twisted ventriloquist dummy for the Visser’s torment. I remembered the feeling of his blood splattering across my abdomen and every stuttered breath that I took. My son, forever enslaved by that very same sick-minded monster. I wasn’t even aware of the kind of tortures he was being put through. How much of his soul had withered away under the Yeerk’s control? I couldn’t know.

I would try to close my eyes when he came, if my sapped energy hadn’t already forcefully done so. But I was weak and foolish. Some part of me still hoped, and that part pleaded me to search for anything that remained of my son. He was lost and alone, and what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t bypass his Yeerk and look to him, tell him that I loved him. No matter how many times the Visser would use his body to defile me.

And on top of it all, I would never see my second son; the son born of the sick incest that the Visser forced upon us. A child doomed to a lifetime of cruelty and despair, like so many others just like him. That, of everything, hurt me the most. More than the claws at my neck, or the constant screams of my malnourished body.

Every waking moment, I would fear his entry. Any slight adjustment of the veil that kept out the sun was a damning turn of the spit. Either the Visser, or one of his lackeys with a jug of dry sawdust and something to keep my snout pried open.

It fluttered, and with it my body tensed, shaking with the anticipation of the millionth round. An arm reached in and turned aside the veil, followed by another with a jug in hand. A small jangling sound echoed around the walls.

“No…” I coughed. Barely more than the half-hearted syllable left my throat.

I didn’t recognise the Hork-Bajir that entered. He must have been new, but the way he walked over was as if he owned the place. I struggled in my restraints innately.

The Yeerk began to speak in a hushed tone. I wasn’t used to that, and I had to strain to hear. “Aldrea, do not draw attention. I’m not here to hurt you.”

I didn’t know what to think. After so many years, maybe the Visser was finally coming up with a new trick. The Yeerk approached closely, and I saw that there was no sawdust in the jug. I saw the wobbling shimmer of liquid. Water.

He lifted it up to my snout and I desperately obliged. The jug tipped forward, and I placed my snout in to gobble at the cool, clean water. It was a heavenly pleasure, and I didn’t care how undignified it came across. Water never came so refreshing.

“Drink,” The Yeerk said. “Get some strength back.”

I took my fill, using my tongue to lap up every last drop before he took away the jug. I panted heavily, remembering to breathe again. “Thank you.” I said, so relieved for what he had given.

I heard the jangling noise again. When he raised up a set of Yeerkish keys, my suspicions were instantly raised.

“He will be back soon. We haven’t got long.” The mysterious Yeerk said.

“What are you doing?” I asked raspily. “What is this?”

The Yeerk took a key from the set and moved it to the restraints, starting with those around my wrists. “This can’t continue. You will kill Visser Eight.”

“What?!” I gasped. The rise of my voice scratched at my throat and sent me into a painful coughing fit.

“Quiet,” He insisted. “You cannot draw attention.”

I recovered and spoke much more quietly. “How? How do I kill him? He’s too well protected.”

He finished with the first restraint, unlocking it but not opening it for my hand to come loose. “When he returns, he will not know that your restraints have been unlocked. When the opportunity arises, you will kill him. He won’t have time to react.”

The next restraint was unlocked. I shifted my arm, testing the strength, and was able to force the metal bar away. I could free myself. He got to work on those holding my feet.

“Why?” I asked forcefully. “Why are you doing this?”

“The Visser has done terrible things. He’s gone too far. The most just action is for his death, and for your vengeance.”

“What do you know?”

All the locks undone, he was able to stare me directly in the face. “I was there when he murdered your husband. I kicked your son and held his head beneath the pool water as part of his orders. I lost faith in him. I lost faith in the Empire. I decided on a different route. Call me a vigilante. That’s probably closest to the truth.”

“Is this some trick?!” I seethed. “What game are you playing?!”

“It’s no game, Aldrea,” He reassured. “I work for justice, and the justice here is your revenge. The justice is the end of a terrible Yeerk Empire; the end of slavery.”

“And yet you continue to use a host to do your work. Why are you lying to me?!”

His face sunk to annoyance. He stepped back, and steadily lowered himself to his hands and knees. I watched, curious, wondering what he was doing. Then, I saw his head turn to the side, and a small, squirming bit of matter reveal itself from his ear. The Yeerk dropped into a waiting hand, and after a shake of dizziness, the Hork-Bajir rose back up to his feet, the Yeerk slug caged gently in twisted fingers. The complex, intelligent stare of a Yeerked Hork-Bajir was replaced with the dully optimistic, innocent expression of a free soul.

“Meppa is free,” He said quietly. “Come with Yeerk to help.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Live far away. Away from bad Yeerks.”

“How many?”

He tapped his free hand to his neck. “Five.”

I slumped. It was not a hopeful number, but seeing him happy and free came with some good, even if he was partnering with a rogue Yeerk. The Hork-Bajir were not manipulative or deceptive, and so Meppa’s words came to me as honest truth.

“You will free more?” I asked of him.

Meppa didn’t look overly convinced at his own ability to explain. “Let Yeerk say.”

He raised his caged hand back up to his ear, kneeling down to the ground again for extra balance. The Yeerk slug slithered back into his ear, and within moments he returned shakily to his feet, intelligent gaze returned.

“We do our best. We are but a small faction, and the Yeerks are many. It will take time.”

“You will free my sons?” I asked. “Will you help them see freedom, like Meppa?”

He bowed his head regretfully. “Your youngest son may have a chance, but we make no special attempt for specific individuals. There are far too many just like him, and he will soon journey to a solar system currently out of our reach. Seerow…” He paused and looked back to me. “Your revenge will be his only freedom.”

It must have been the water I’d gulped down, but for the first time in so long, tears began to strain from my eyes. I sobbed, imagining the scene in my head. My wonderful, who’d already suffered more than enough. Only for me to end it all. Was that good? Or bad? Would he have to forgive me, or would the act be my forgiveness to him?

“Is it truly justice?” I said.

“Visser Eight’s torture must end,” The Yeerk replied staunchly. “For your son’s good, as well as your own.”

I accepted it, for my deepest thoughts knew it was true. “What is your name? You deserve to be called more than just Yeerk.”

“I am a moon,” He said. “That’s all you need to know.”

I laughed bitterly, and as much as my feeble body would allow. “A moon… You Yeerks have never been known for poetry and metaphor.”

“Justice is poetry. He will arrive soon, so I must go.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

He had turned his back to leave, making way for the veiled entrance. “Good luck, Aldrea.”

\--- 

The time came soon; at the moment I’d almost gone back to sleep as the blood ran from my brain to my feet. The water I’d taken in had provided me with a little more energy, or what _seemed_ like energy. I had been picturing the moment that I ended that disgusting Yeerk, savouring his death almost as much as I grieved the loss of my son. I thought at first that I wouldn’t have either the strength or the courage, but the more of I thought of his pain, the easier the task seemed.

I just hoped that he would live long enough to give me a glimpse of himself. To rid himself of the Yeerk grimace and show me the Hork-Bajir I loved.

He waltzed in as he always did, with a cocky stride and a victorious grin, like I was a trophy he could polish to stroke his ego. He carried nothing with him. No jug, no probe, and no indication that he knew what was about to befall him. I kept my limbs back to the wood I lay against, digging myself in weakly with my blades.

“My dear Aldrea, the day is bright and the temperature soothing,” He sighed blissfully. “Such a pity that you can’t see it for yourself.”

I did as I always had, resigning myself to silence, not buying into his mockery and gloating. Any differing behaviour would only alert him into suspiciousness. Even as he came closer and jabbed me painfully in the side with a claw, I reacted with little more than a grunt.

“You never talk to me,” He groaned. “Come on. I want to hear you beg and cry! Or better yet, I want to see you angry! I want to see you swear revenge. It would make things so much more pleasurable for me.”

He was standing back, hands to his hips. For one moment, I thought he would sense something wrong. He would see the unlocked restraints just barely holding me in place. He would only sometimes check them, more reliant on his underlings to take such duties. He came here for his guiltless pleasure, and not to work.

“Still nothing…” He muttered. “Not a word. Maybe you need some encouragement.”

He hadn’t noticed! And I looked up as he came closer to rub claws down my abdomen. He stepped up, bringing us level, and began to press his body against my own. His hands then gripped at the wood behind mine and he breathed dryly against my neck.

“I’ll fuck you till you cry…” He whispered.

He was getting ready to perform on me again, his head dulling, alertness disappearing. My opportunity had arrived. I slowly pulled my right arm from the restraint, quiet enough for him to not notice. I wrapped my hand calmly beneath his snout and lifted it to stare at me. His eyes widened in horror.

“Please forgive me.” I said, and then I drew my arm to the left and sliced it back, blades exposed to his neck. He continued to stare with shock, as the blood began to trickle from the cuts I had left. I pulled up a foot with a _clang_ as its restraint hit the hard wood, and placed it to his torso, forcefully thrusting him backwards. He hit the ground with a terrible thud.

I pulled away from the boards that had been my home for so long. The air that ran down my back felt foreign and strange, like it had forgotten everything but the splinters that pierced it.

There, before me, he lay dying, struggling to breathe as the tears ravaged his throat. Desperate, confused hands clutched to it, but to no avail. Not even the immense healing ability of the Hork-Bajir could save him. I tried to walk forward, but it was a skill that my body was no longer capable of, and I collapsed freely, landing beside the Visser who could do nothing more than turn his head and acknowledge me.

My body was weak, and my newfound freedom was proving to be the final confrontation for it to face. I felt myself dying, sapped of the last bit of energy when I sliced his throat. But I didn’t mind. I had nothing to go on with. Only imprisonment. I used what was left to crawl over the Visser, to stare him down before he finally succumbed to his fatal injury. To rub in the fact that I’d had the last laugh.

And I did. I laughed. I laughed right in his face. When I did that, his face faded. The bitter anger and cold intellect of the Yeerk dropped away.

A scared, lonely Hork-Bajir took his place. My poor, poor son. He, too, was dying.

I wrapped my claws gently around the back of his head and held him like I used to when he was only a tiny child. His jaw shuddered, and I knew what he was trying but failing to say.

“My Seerow,” I whispered. “My precious _kawatnoj_. I always loved you. I always will.”

His hand reached up and shakily rubbed at my neck. I dipped my head down and connected our blades. One last goodbye kiss.

“We shall go to see your father. He is waiting.”

Seerow faded away, his eyelids taking their last blink. And then I, too, felt the distant calls of the Beyond beckoning. I lay down with my son, and awaited its arrival.


End file.
